


In Dreams

by shrimp_princess



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 5 times aziraphale dreamt of crowley, 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, M/M, and 1 time where crowley was there to comfort him, gabriel and hastur are only in the dreams, i am so bad at tags, is this a hurt/comfort fic?? probably, this has probably been done before but here i am doing it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23423395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrimp_princess/pseuds/shrimp_princess
Summary: follow me on tumblr @theycallmebeaker !
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	In Dreams

Aziraphale did not sleep often. He generally found it a waste of time, despite Crowley’s protests. But once in a great while, if he was feeling particularly weary, he’d indulge in a quick nap. 

It never lasted for long. 

1.

The feel of a sword in Aziraphale’s hand was not strange. Aziraphale had been a warrior, the guardian of the gate to Eden. He’d fought in the Great War, and he would be expected to fight on heaven’s side again. 

But still, when Gabriel handed him the blade, something about it felt wrong. He wanted to put it away, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“The demon Crawly,” Gabriel was saying. Aziraphale bit down on his tongue to keep himself from correcting the archangel. “He must be eliminated.” 

“Well, I—I’m not sure that—” Aziraphale began.

“No time for questioning, Aziraphale,” Gabriel commented, leading him out the door. “We have a war to win.”

“The war hasn’t begun.”

“There’s no reason not to get a headstart!” Gabriel shot him an insufferable grin before they were miracled away against Aziraphale’s will.

Aziraphale didn’t have time to truly register where he was before he made eye contact with Crowley. 

“Angel?” Crowley glanced at his sword, his eyes full of fear. 

_ No. _

Gabriel was still with him. “Go on, then.”

Aziraphale’s heart was pounding. He felt sick to his stomach. “Gabriel—”

Gabriel watched him closely, eyes narrowing. He always made Aziraphale feel so  small _. _ “Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft.” 

“Of. Of course not. Just—”

Gabriel snapped his fingers and suddenly Crowley was kneeling in front of him, bound. He didn’t say a word, but the way he  _ looked _ at Aziraphale… 

“Kill him,” Gabriel commanded. 

Aziraphale gripped the sword tighter. He couldn’t. Not while Crowley was looking at him. His gaze held nothing but betrayal.

There was a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Gabriel’s. “You don’t want to  _ fall _ , do you, Aziraphale?” 

If Aziraphale refused, it would be painfully obvious that he cared for Crowley. He wasn’t allowed to care for a  _ demon _ , of all beings. Crowley was his enemy. 

He raised his sword. 

“Aziraphale, please,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale hesitated. Those golden eyes had never been so fearful, not of him.

“The Almighty  _ commands  _ you to kill this vile creature!” 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, he couldn't bear to look at Crowley’s uncovered eyes a moment longer, and he felt himself swing the sword. 

Before it could make an impact, Aziraphale’s eyes opened, and with startling clarity, he realized it had been nothing but a dream.

Still, Aziraphale had to take a few minutes, a few deep breaths, in order to feel calm again.

2.

Crowley sat across from him. Aziraphale had a pleasant bubbling sensation deep in his stomach, and he was laughing, and Crowley was laughing too, and it was simply  _ wonderful _ . 

Crowley had his glasses off, which was not rare when they were in the bookshop, alone, but it always made Aziraphale happy. He knew he was trusted, he knew that Crowley felt safe here. And Crowley was beautiful: long red hair, golden eyes, hips that, much against his will, enraptured Aziraphale. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Crowley asked, snapping Aziraphale out of his borderline indecent thoughts. 

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. 

Crowley quirked an eyebrow, and Aziraphale really wished he hadn’t, because that was devastatingly attractive as well. “Nothing?” Crowley repeated.

Aziraphale nodded. 

And then Crowley stood up. He came forward and sat next to Aziraphale, leaning in just slightly. Enough so that he wasn’t in Aziraphale’s space, but he could be, if Aziraphale bridged the gap between them, or pulled him closer. 

Aziraphale fiddled with his sleeve instead, trying to focus his thoughts on something else. Anything but Crowley’s unconventionally handsome face.

“You were staring at me.” Crowley spoke softly. Aziraphale could almost feel his breath. “I think I have an idea of what you were thinking about.”

Aziraphale swallowed. He should move away. He really, really shouldn’t let this happen. 

Oh, but how he craved this more than anything else. And so he didn’t move a muscle. 

Crowley slowly, slowly leaned forward, softly brushed his lips against Aziraphale’s. 

It undid him. Every ounce of control he’d had in that moment vanished, and he pulled Crowley closer. Crowley made a surprised noise and Aziraphale liked the way it felt against his mouth. 

The kiss deepened, and Crowley was on top of Aziraphale, straddling him, and it felt so good, Crowley was so good and he was kissing Aziraphale’s cheeks and his neck as he worked on getting Aziraphale’s trousers open, and then he was moving lower and lower—

Aziraphale eyes opened. He had a second to stare up at his ceiling in confusion before realizing with horror what had just occurred. 

He didn’t try sleeping for another few decades after that. 

3.

Gabriel was particularly fond of collecting trophies of those he'd conquered. He didn’t get out much these days, mostly stayed in his office, so his trophy room hadn’t changed much over the last few millennia.  Aziraphale found the whole idea of it rather…unsettling. Perhaps revolting. The horns, the feathers, even an entire wing that had once belonged to a demon, now on display. 

“Glad you could join me, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, making Aziraphale jump. He hadn’t noticed Gabriel walk in. 

“Yes, hello,” he said meekly, trying not to focus on the wing in the corner of his eye. Soot-colored, like Crowley’s. 

Aziraphale never wanted to think about Crowley in this room.

“I believe we have cause for celebration.”

“We do?”

Gabriel smiled, which only made Aziraphale feel worse. “Oh, yes. I’ve taken care of a major problem for you.” 

Aziraphale wrung his hands out in front of him. “What problem would that be exactly?” 

Gabriel opened a drawer and beckoned Aziraphale to come look inside, which Aziraphale absolutely did not want to do, but his feet moved him forward without his consent, and then he was leaning above, staring down in horror at  _ Crowley’s _ eyes in the case, Crowley’s eyes and no other part of him, and Aziraphale couldn’t contain his scream of horror—

He gasped awake and was met with darkness. For a moment, he was only concerned with where Gabriel was and more importantly where Crowley was, but he quickly arrived at the conclusion that he was at home, and it had been a dream. A nightmare.

Unfortunately, this did not help him calm down. His heart rate was much higher than it should be and it was difficult to breathe. 

He made his way to the kitchen, where he discovered it was the middle of the night. Crowley would be asleep. Crowley quite enjoyed the whole sleeping thing. He must not suffer from any sort of night terrors. 

Yes, Crowley was asleep, and he was fine. As Aziraphale waited for the kettle to boil, he paced the kitchen. 

He hadn’t spoken to Crowley in a few days. What if his dream had been more than a dream? What if Crowley was really in danger, or—or something even worse had already happened to him? 

Aziraphale was already to the phone, dialing Crowley’s number before the thought had time to finish. He could feel himself shaking, and if Crowley didn’t pick up he was going to march over to his flat to make sure he was okay. He silently begged Crowley to pick up,  _ please pick up, I’m begging you please— _

“Wotssssit,” Crowley’s voice came from the other end of the line, sleep heavy, a hint of a hiss coming through. He sounded annoyed. 

Aziraphale relaxed. “Crowley.” 

“Some of us try to sssleep, y’know.” 

_ He’s okay he’s okay he’s okay he’s okay _ . “My-my apologies. You can get back to. To sleeping.”

“Something wrong, angel?” Crowley sounded much more awake all of a sudden.

“Not at all! Everything’s tickety boo.” 

“Airaphale--”

“Have a good night!” Aziraphale hung up before Crowley could ask him if he was alright again. 

4.

Crowley was across from him. Aziraphale wasn’t sure exactly where they were dining, everything in the background seemed blurred and unnecessary, but he found himself thinking that it didn’t matter. Crowley was across from him, Crowley was holding his hand on top of the table, Crowley was brushing his foot up against Aziraphale’s. 

“You don’t seem very focused,” Crowley said, gesturing towards Aziraphale’s untouched plate.

“Ah. Well,” Aziraphale replied. “I find myself quite enchanted by the demon across from me.” 

Crowley grinned. It was a stupid grin, a grin that he presented when he was really, truly happy.

He was happy, here with Aziraphale. And Aziraphale was happy here with him.

“Not very angelic of you,” Crowley mumbled. 

“No,” Aziraphale agreed, and that was okay. It was okay for him to be here, to be holding Crowley’s hand, and to admit to loving him. It was okay to be _unangelic_. What did angels know about happiness, anyway?

This night was special, not because of any sort of occasion, but because Aziraphale was spending it with Crowley. They walked hand in hand down the street, talking about nonsense, things that didn’t matter at all, but they did because it was Crowley that he was talking of these things with. Crowley could make anything sound important. 

Along the path, Crowley stopped at an ice cream cart and paid for two cones. 

Aziraphale was in love. 

Aziraphale was in  _ love. _

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley turned his body towards him, a clear demonstration that he was listening, even though Aziraphale couldn't see beyond his dark lenses. “Thank you. It’s been a wonderful day.”

“Any time, angel.” 

And then, as if God were playing a cruel trick, Aziraphale woke up. 

He rolled over, to his left, to the empty side of the bed. To where he wished Crowley was.

5.

Aziraphale had been waiting for Crowley for ten minutes. It wasn’t unusual for the demon to be late, he claimed he always had  _ wiles _ to attend to, but it always made Aziraphale nervous.

He fidgeted, glanced around. Looked down at his lap. Glanced around again. Realized he should probably be doing something on this bench rather than sitting here alone like a creep. Miracled himself a paper. Stared at the top corner, absorbing nothing.

Next time, he was going to tell Crowley to be on time. This was getting ridiculous. 

“Well, if it isn’t the principality Aziraphale.” 

This couldn’t be good. Aziraphale reluctantly lowered the paper to find Duke Hastur standing in front of him.

“Er, hello,” Aziraphale replied. He really hoped this demon wasn’t here to attack him. He hadn’t had a big enough breakfast for this sort of encounter. He laughed nervously. “This is quite awkward.” 

“Because you were expecting Crowley?” 

“What? No. Crowley? I don’t -- Crowley is not here. Which is why I’m here. Away from that...tempting fiend.” 

Hastur looked unimpressed. Aziraphale remembered Crowley’s words:  _ My lot do not send rude notes. _

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say try and convince him further, but Hastur stopped him. “We know about your relationship.” 

Aziraphale tried to seem disgusted by the prospect. “I have no clue what you may be referring to, demon.” 

“After enough... _ persuasion _ , Crowley was all too happy to let us in on the details.” 

This was all wrong.  _ Crowley _ had agreed to meet him here. Aziraphale stood up. “If you are going to ruin this fine park, I shall take my newspaper elsewhere.” 

Only then did he notice that Hastur wasn’t the only demon in the park. There were dozens of them, all getting closer and closer to Aziraphale. He was surrounded, and there was no sign of Crowley.

Aziraphale had been tricked. By Crowley, or by these demons, or--

“Get him,” he heard Hastur say, and all the demons advanced at once. Aziraphale barely had time to throw his hands up in defense before they were clawing at him, ripping his clothes and his skin, dragging him down, closer to hell. He could smell the sulfur, and he tried to release his wings, tried to fly higher, but that only gave the demons more to tear at, and oh  _ God, is this what it feels like to Fall? _

Aziraphale woke with a gasp. 

He was in the bookshop.

He was in the bookshop, and there was no sulfur, there were no flames or demons or  _ newspapers. _ His wings were fine, his clothes were fine. He was alone.

Aziraphale was also not fond of the human business of  _ crying _ . Crying didn’t solve anything, it only ever made him feel worse. 

But sometimes, crying couldn’t be helped. 

+1

Aziraphale was always disappointed in himself when the terror of a nightmare didn’t fade immediately when he awoke. It was clear that he was safe, that Crowley was safe, the moment he turned and saw Crowley peacefully sleeping next to him. It was clear that the dream had been fake, but that didn’t convince his heart to calm down. The knowledge didn’t make his breathing go back to normal. 

As carefully as he could, he didn’t want to wake Crowley, Aziraphale made his way to the bathroom. The light inside was bright, his eyes were accustomed to the darkness of their bedroom, and it almost reminded him uncomfortably of Heaven. 

He made a beeline for the sink and splashed water on his face. Everything was fine. No one in Heaven or Hell were after them. They were safe here.

Why couldn’t his dreams realize that? 

There was a knock on the door. Aziraphale jumped. 

“Everything okay?” Crowley’s voice came through the wood.

Despite his best efforts, Aziraphale had still woken him up. He had the childish urge to cry about it. 

“Angel?” Crowley continued.

Aziraphale was taking too long to respond. He opened his mouth, but it didn’t seem to want to comply. 

The door handle twisted, and then there was Crowley, standing in the unnatural light in his silk pajamas, his golden eyes bright against the white of his skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, putting his hands on Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

Aziraphale leaned into the touch. “Nothing, nothing,” he whispered.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley always wanted to help. 

Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his ear against Crowley’s chest, right above his heart. Crowley’s hands moved to gently card through his hair, and slowly, Aziraphale’s breathing calmed. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Aziraphale finally said, still pressed against Crowley. “I know how much you love your sleep.” 

“Love you more.” Crowley’s chest rumbled as he said it.

Aziraphale smiled to himself. He didn’t think it would ever cease to amaze him when Crowley said that. 

Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s head to look at him, his eyes full of concern. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Aziraphale suddenly felt rather silly standing there, Crowley’s hands on his face. He took a small step backward. Crowley’s hands fell to his sides. 

“Just a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Crowley’s pajamas didn’t have pockets. He ran his hands over where pockets would normally be. Aziraphale could picture him in his obscenely tight jeans, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Would you -- Do you want to talk about it?” 

Aziraphale thought for a moment, trying to put a finger on what exactly he’d been so afraid of. “I...No thank you. I barely remember it now.” All he remembered was the fear. “We should go back to bed.” 

“Are you--?” 

“Quite certain, yes.” Aziraphale brushed past Crowley as he left their little bathroom. He was already under the covers when Crowley turned off the assaulting lights of the bathroom.

He felt Crowley crawl back into bed, and then his arms snaked their way around Aziraphale. 

“Okay?” Crowley said against the back of his neck. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied. He felt a lot better now than he had ten minutes ago. Here, in the darkness, with Crowley holding him. 

He ruminated on the words he wanted to say for a little while, long enough where he wondered if Crowley had gone back to sleep, but he spoke up anyway. “It’s hard to get used to. Not being worried about you. Not being...sad when I wake up because you’re not there.”

Crowley kissed the back of his neck. Aziraphale was glad he wasn’t asleep. 

“You still worry about me,” Crowley said. “You’re always telling me not to drive so fast.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Yes, indeed.” 

Crowley kissed him again. Aziraphale closed his eyes, relishing it. “I promise to be here every morning when you wake up.” 

“It’s well known that you always get up a lot later than I do, my dear.” 

“I’m  _ trying _ to be comforting here.” 

“I know.” Aziraphale lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you.” 

Aziraphale didn’t remember falling asleep again, but he remembered waking up. It was a slow thing, a peaceful thing, and he watched the sunlight pierce through their curtains. Crowley was indeed still asleep, curled up next to him, his hair a massive tangle above his head. 

Waking up wasn’t so bad when it was like this. Sleeping, in general, was quite enjoyable when Crowley was there. 

Aziraphale realized that, possibly for the first time, he was completely at peace here, in this place they’d made their home.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @theycallmebeaker !


End file.
